


Any One You Walk Away From

by ereshai



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adventure, Aliases, Alternate Universe - Firefly Verse, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Background Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Background Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Background Relationships, Cliffhangers, Multi, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war took a lot of things from a lot of people, but Firefly-class transport <i>Shield</i> and her captain, Nick Fury, are still flying and staying under the Alliance's radar. A passenger (or three) with something to hide might just change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any One You Walk Away From

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the pilot episode of _Firefly_ \- it's a line of Jayne's dialogue.  
>  I really felt like my reach exceeded my grasp on this one, but I had to try.

The Eavesdown Docks were a hive of activity. Dust swirled from the constant take-offs and landings of the cargo and passenger ships. The market, a constantly changing permanent fixture, crowded as close to the landing area as possible. Only the poorest merchants set up their stalls right next to the docks, desperate enough for customers that they were willing to let those same customers haggle them out of almost all of their profit because there was a layer of dirt on everything. Those who could afford it were well away from the action, so of course that’s where the captain of one particular transport had reason to be.

Nick Fury tromped down the ramp of his ship, _Shield_ , his crew behind him. He motioned for Maria and Phil to accompany him.

“Don’t go overboard on those parts, Stark,” he called after the ship’s mechanic as Tony Stark ventured out into the market in search of the engine parts they absolutely had to have.

“I’ll spend your money like it was my own,” Stark called back.

“Please don’t,” Nick replied and Stark waved to show he’d heard. Stark was still a puzzle; even after spending two years in the black with the man, Nick didn’t know why one of the richest men in the system was bumming around on an old transport as a mechanic. Maybe it was for the sheer joy of keeping the old girl running, but Nick was willing to bet there was more to it than that. Men like Stark always came with complications.

“Why don’t you just let him spend his own coin, boss?” Barton asked as he settled down in a folding chair at the base of the ramp. “He’s offered enough times. We know he’s good for it.”

“And what will he ask in return? _Shield_ is mine, free and clear, and I want to keep it that way. Until I know more about his motives, Stark’s money is a last resort.”

“I think we can trust Stark after all this time,” Maria said without inflection. Maria liked to challenge him directly, and she always made it clear what she thought of his notions, good or bad. It was why he’d asked her to stick around after the war was over. She was everything a good second-in-command should be, on a battlefield or running a ship.

“I trust him to keep my ship flying, which means I trust him with my life and the lives of my crew. That will have to do.”

Maria nodded shortly and that was the end of it. Nick turned to Barton. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours and then we’ll set out for Greenleaf. If anyone asks, after that it’s points unknown. See if you can drum up some passengers. The kind that pay in credits, not favors.”

Nick didn’t have much hope Barton would bring in someone with coin. He was a sucker for a good story. Nick couldn’t complain too much; that was how they’d ended up with a bona fide Companion renting one of _Shield’s_ shuttles, despite Nick’s extreme reluctance to play nice with someone who was almost guaranteed to be an Alliance spy or assassin. Knowing Natasha, she was both. Spy and assassin he had no issue with; Alliance was another story.

Phil gave him a little smile, shook his head, and squeezed Barton’s shoulder – the most affectionate display they allowed themselves in public. Nick was grateful for it; the two men could get carried away once they started getting all lovey-dovey and he didn’t think the public was ready for that kind of show. Some things were meant for the privacy of personal quarters, or in extreme cases, the cockpit of a transport ship, as long as the rest of the crew was asleep.

“Sure thing, boss,” Barton said, but his eyes were on Phil. As much as he liked to pretend otherwise, Phil was a sucker for a good story, too, which only encouraged Barton’s ways. They deserved each other. Nick just wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve them.

“We have an appointment,” Nick said meaningfully and Phil snapped to attention; he almost saluted - a holdover from their time serving together. Nick had lost a lot of good people to the ultimately futile war against the Alliance, and he tended to keep the survivors close. Maria and Phil were two; they were going to see the third now.

Sitwell had built up quite a little enterprise for himself. He didn’t have Nick’s hard line against dealing with the Alliance and he occasionally made a tidy little profit through back-door deals with minor officials. Of course, this also let him blackmail those officials into even more back-door deals that did not benefit the Alliance at all. Nick was more than happy to have a hand in those. Credits tricked out of the Alliance were not the same as credits earned from it, no matter what Maria had to say to the matter.

They left Barton at the ship with his chair and his wide purple umbrella and made their way through the market. Someone had attempted to impose order on the unregulated stalls at some point before giving up – the place was a maze, full of unexpected turns and dead ends, but everything was lined up as nice as you please. Newcomers were wise to hire a guide and pay them well enough that they wouldn’t be abandoned or unceremoniously sold as cheap off-world labor.

Nick didn’t need a guide to find Sitwell’s establishment, despite the many twists and turns it took to reach it. Sitwell was waiting for them, of course. He’d probably been told the minute Nick and his crew had stepped foot off their ship.

“Nick,” Sitwell greeted him with a smile. “Still rattling around in that old rust bucket?”

Nick took Sitwell’s outstretched hand. “Until we both fall out of the sky. How’s business, Jasper?”

“Booming. I’m thinking of giving it all up to open a restaurant.”

Nick suppressed a snort. Sitwell had been talking about opening a restaurant since before the war. The man did love his food. With the amount of business he did, both legal and not-so-much, he had more than enough money and connections to actually do it. It was anybody’s guess why he didn’t. Nick privately thought Sitwell didn’t like not knowing what everyone was up to.

“Invite me to the grand opening.” Nick took a seat while Sitwell greeted Maria and Phil. “What have you got for us?”

“Just a little cargo transfer. Standard rate. My client is willing to make the transfer at your next port of call.” Sitwell handed Nick a datasheet. “Here are the particulars.”

Nick read the sheet carefully. It looked as easy as Sitwell made it sound. Reality seldom agreed. “You know we’re going to Greenleaf, don’t you? You think it’s a good idea to take this kind of cargo to a planet with such a heavy Alliance presence?”

“It’s not like you’re trying to smuggle anything _out_. Besides, that’s part of the appeal for my client. He likes a challenge.”

“And I like staying out of Alliance prisons. If we’re caught with this cargo…”

“Everything’s sealed. The manifests are perfect, and if an Alliance inspector does open it up for some trumped up reason, you have deniability. The trail leads to a dozen false identities, none of them connected to me or my client. You might look a little foolish for being tricked, but you certainly won’t go to jail.”

“And your word is supposed to be good enough?” Maria asked, as if she and Jasper hadn’t grown up together. Although maybe that was why she was giving Jasper a hard time. They were practically brother and sister, except for tiny details like shared DNA.

“When has my word not been good enough?” Jasper demanded.

“Here we go,” Phil muttered as Maria and Jasper began a familiar argument about the presence of certain ingredients in a particular meal and an allergic reaction that may or may not have been narrowly averted. Maria, so professional most of the time, rarely got to indulge her playful side and Nick was reluctant to pull her away from the only family she had left any sooner than he had to. Phil was not as sentimental and went to stand by the door.

“If the question of Jasper’s trustworthiness has been settled,” Nick said when they were reduced to glaring at each other, both unwilling to concede. “We’ll take it. I want half up front, and you pay extra if we get busted with his goods.”

“How much extra?” Jasper asked warily.

“Enough to get _Shield_ out of impound. The _fei hua_ in Customs love to collect ships.”

Jasper nodded slowly. “That should be acceptable.” Either Jasper had a total pushover for a client - unlikely - or he was planning to take care of potential impound fees himself. Nick flattered himself it wasn’t only because of Maria.

They made their goodbyes and went back out into the hot, dusty air of the market.

=

Sitting around waiting for potential passengers was not Clint’s favorite activity. He could be still when it was important, like when he was covering Nick and Maria on a job, but this didn’t rate even an attempt. So he pulled out three small, weighted balls and began to juggle them, throwing in a spin or a toss from behind his back or under his leg when he got bored.

His impromptu show pulled a crowd. He wasn’t doing any of the really flashy stuff - out of practice - but it was enough to get a few coins tossed at his feet. People came and went as he spun a fanciful tale about growing up as an orphan in a traveling circus, complete with a newfound family and a gruff mentor with a heart of gold who taught him everything he knew. Complete bullshit, of course. In no ‘verse would anyone think Trickshot had a heart of gold and as for the so-called new family… Clint didn’t know much about families, but even he knew they weren’t supposed to act like that. But his tale kept people interested and got him a few more coins, so he didn’t worry too much about what had really happened. It was done and gone.

He finally let the balls come to a rest in his hands and began to collect his coins from the ground. His audience drifted away, leaving a few kids who wanted to learn how to juggle and a couple of men who were actually looking at _Shield’s_ itinerary on the plas-screen. Clint liked to take a low-pressure approach to salesmanship, and so he ignored his two potential customers for about a quarter of an hour while he showed the eager children a few simple juggling moves that most of them would give up trying to master in less than a day.

Only one man was left by the time the last kid had scurried away and Clint went to speak to him.

“I think you lost a customer,” the man said. He had average height for a white man, with dark hair and fancy-looking spectacles. He looked soft, new to this side of life in the ‘verse, for all his well-worn clothes. Anyone could see they had been expensive when they were new.

“Fine by me.” Clint shrugged. “A man who can’t stand a little waiting isn’t gonna take too well to travel on a small ship like _Shield_.”

“So it was on purpose,” the man said thoughtfully. “That’s an unusual vetting process.”

“Saves my captain some grief. He’s not spacing nearly as many passengers lately.”

The man stared at him and then a reluctant smile broke across his face. “Thanks for the warning. Another test?”

Clint smiled and shrugged again. “We’re not always the easiest group to get along with. Best to have a sense of humor.”

“Surely there aren’t that many people wanting to book passage on your ship that actually meet your exacting requirements?”

“I’m just looking for tolerance, not perfection. And you seem like a man with some patience.”

The man chuckled. It wasn’t a happy sound. “It’s something I’ve had to work on lately.”

“If you’re looking for a ride out of the world, I’ve got this shiny ship behind me needs a few passengers.” Clint jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at _Shield_.

The man’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry I’m wasting your time. I’m not looking to go to Greenleaf.” He looked past Clint at the ship, a lost look in his eyes.

“Where are you headed, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Nowhere in particular, I guess. Somewhere I can do some good.”

“The kind of good you can’t do with a bunch of purple bellies hanging around?”

“I’m not sure wh-“

“Hey, you a doc?”

“How-?”

Clint gestured at the man’s collar. “You used to wear medical insignia. The fabric’s not as faded where it used to be.”

The man pulled his collar out and craned his neck to look at it. “It’s barely there.”

“I’ve got good eyesight. You’re a doctor?”

“I’ve had some medical training, but it’s not my primary field.”

“You’re a kinda doctor looking to do some good where the Alliance ain’t. You want a Rim planet. Is that all your stuff?” Clint gestured at the bag hanging off his shoulder and the one at his feet.

“Yes, but-“

“We head out to the Rim all the time. Plus, you really want to do some good, our ship needs a doc. All we’ve got is a couple of people with some field medic experience. We do okay, but we wouldn’t say no to someone with training. So, you can sign on to do some doctoring with us until you find a nice homey planet where the Alliance suns don’t shine, okay?”

The man gaped as Clint picked up his bag and headed into the ship. “C’mon, I’ll show you your bunk.” When the man just stood there, Clint stopped and turned back to him. “Shake a leg. I still have to find some paying passengers.”

The man shook his head and trotted after Clint. “Name’s Clint, by the way. And you?” Clint asked as they ascended into _Shield’s_ cargo hold.

“Bruce. Bruce B- Becker.”

“Is that so? Nice to meet ya, Dr. Bruce.”

=

Some hours and several errands later, Nick, Maria, and Phil returned to _Shield_. Clint was in the cargo hold, directing placement of the shipments Nick had arranged to transport. Jasper’s special shipment was among them, but Nick didn’t know which ones were which without looking at the manifest. Best just to treat it like any other shipment and not draw any attention to it, not if there were going to be strangers about.

There were a few unfamiliar faces in the hold - they weren’t loading cargo and instead were standing around aimlessly. Nick pegged them as passengers, though a couple of them looked big enough to find jobs as dock workers.

“Captain,” Clint called with a wave. That was for their passengers’ benefit; Clint usually called him by his first name, though it had taken him several years to feel comfortable enough to do it. Nick waited for Clint to send off the workers while Maria and Phil continued on into the ship.

“Maria and I will take care of the pre-flight checklist,” Phil said. He and Clint exchanged a brief look and a smile before he went up the stairs, and then only Nick, Clint, and the strangers were left.

“Who’d you bring onto my boat, Barton?” he asked as he turned to the three men. The first man was a tall, muscular blond with hair spilling over his shoulders. He was dressed like old money - a higher class of passenger than Nick had expected to see. Not the kind who usually booked passage on a small ship like _Shield._ By some miracle, Barton had found a paying customer.

“This is Thor Odinson,” Barton said. When Nick looked at him, Barton casually tugged his ear and ran a finger along his jaw. _In a hurry_. That explained why he was here instead of on some luxury space liner. With so few passengers, they’d get through customs much more quickly than a bigger ship would. And if he had something to hide…well, they all had their secrets.

The second man was also blond, though his hair was short. While he wasn’t as big as Odinson, he was still of above average height. There was something familiar about him, but Nick couldn’t recall meeting him before. “Grant Barnes.” The name didn’t ring any bells, and Clint’s arms were crossed over his chest, two fingers tapping his upper left arm. _Something’s off._ Not too off, or Clint wouldn’t have let him on board. It also meant he’d paid - two for two.

That left the third man, who was almost a negative version of the other two - dark-haired, thin, and almost tiny in comparison. Nick bet himself this was Clint’s in-kind passenger, and he wondered what the man had to offer. “Bruce Becker.” Nick waited and Clint went on. “He knows some doctoring.” That wasn’t a bad trade.

Nick nodded to the three men. “Welcome on board, gentlemen. Clint’s probably already given you the tour, so I’ll be brief. Passengers are asked to keep to the passenger quarters, the dining room, and the common area. The infirmary’s available as needed, but I sincerely hope it won’t be. Crew quarters, the bridge, and the engine room are off-limits. If I find you in any of those places without an express invitation, you’ll be confined to quarters until we reach the nearest habitable planet, where you will be left to make your own way. I don’t take tampering with my ship or my crew lightly.”

Becker looked alarmed, but Odinson seemed to be amused. Barnes raised his hand. “What about the cargo bay? I’ve got some equipment that needs monitoring.”

Nick turned to Clint. “Mobile freezer unit. Won’t fit in his quarters, even if we could get it there.”

“A member of the crew will accompany you on your checks. For your safety,” he added when Barnes looked like he was going to object. “Set it up with Clint.”

A clunk followed by a mechanical whirring noise echoed through the cargo bay. Phil’s voice sounded over the intercom. “ _All the chickens are roosting, Captain. Lift-off in five minutes._ ”

Clint covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking. Nick shook his head. “Welcome to _Shield_ , gentlemen. Settle in for take-off. Dinner’s at 1800, ship time, which is about three hours from now, but you’re welcome to help yourself to what we have any time.”

Nick climbed the stairs to the catwalk while Clint herded the passengers toward their quarters. As he ascended, a hatch opened and Natasha stepped through.

“Natasha,” he greeted her with a nod. “I hope your stay on Persephone was productive.”

“Positively enlightening,” she said cryptically and he had to stop himself from asking. Her work as a Companion was none of his business and if her presence on Persephone had another purpose - an Alliance purpose - well, her double life wasn’t something they acknowledged in that many words. “Excuse me. I want to have a word with your pilot.”

“After you.” Nick gestured for her to precede him. Natasha’s jaw was clenched; it wouldn’t do to get between her and her intended target.

Natasha swept past him and strode through the ship to the cockpit; Nick trailed behind her. Maria was coming down the walkway toward the dining room; when she saw Nick and Natasha, she stood to one side to let them pass, then turned and followed them back to the cockpit.

Phil greeted them absently when they entered, his attention on piloting _Shield_ out of Persephone’s atmosphere and into the black. Once they were free of the shipping lanes, Phil laid in their course and set the autopilot, and finally turned to find Natasha staring at him.

“Natasha, you look lovely today,” Phil said pleasantly. Nick wasn’t sure if Phil honestly had no idea of the danger he was in or if he was just that good.

“ _Bawk bawk_ ,” Natasha responded.

Phil raised his hands in surrender. “That slipped out. It’s just a saying; I grew up saying it. We even used it during the war. Just ask Nick. Or Maria.”

Maria shook her head while Nick said, “Don’t try to drag us down with you, Cheese.”

Natasha stared a moment longer, stone-faced, then turned abruptly and left again.

“Oh, it’s worse than I thought,” Maria said, staring after her. “She knows where you sleep, Coulson.”

“Clint sleeps there, too,” Phil said. “She won’t risk him getting caught in the crossfire.”

“Isn’t it her turn to cook tonight?” Nick wondered aloud.

“She wouldn’t do anything to the food. Especially not with passengers aboard.”

“It’s cute how you underestimate her,” Maria said to Phil. “However she decides to do it, when she retaliates, you will be her only victim. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to greet my wife properly.”

Nick watched her leave, a soft smile on his face. He caught Phil watching and glared at him. “Let Barton know we’ll be needing his expertise during the transfer of Jasper’s cargo on Greenleaf. No point in making any concrete plans until we scout the meet site, but I want him watching our backs when the time comes.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“And you watch your back, Cheese,” Nick said with a grin and then he left.

=

Tony fiddled with the engine part in his hands - any excuse not to make eye contact with the man on the screen. “Thanks for the loan, Rhodey,” he said. “The captain didn’t have enough for this,” he held up the part, “very important part and I know he doesn’t want his precious ship falling out of the sky. Not a word to him, okay?”

“Now how could I do that? I don’t even know what ship you’re on.” Rhodey’s face twisted in a frown. “Just come home. Please? Then you could build him a whole new engine.”

“I’m not ready yet. Besides, he’d never take it.”

“Stane’s been dead a long time, Tony. What about the company?” Rhodey paused, then added, “You’re going to leave it all on Pepper?”

“I know Obie’s dead. I was there. Do we have to talk about this?” Tony put down the part and rubbed a hand over his face, leaving behind another smudge of grease. “I’ve still got some places to see, okay?”

“I don’t get it. If you wanted to go planet-hopping, you could’ve hitched a ride with me. I know you know _Iron Patriot_ ’s top of the line. You designed her.”

“I’d have nothing to do - she’d never break down. This bucket of bolts keeps me pretty busy. She’d literally fall apart without me. She needs me.”

“We need you, too.”

Tony didn’t answer.

“Talk to me, man. What’s going on in that genius brain of yours?” When Tony still didn’t answer, he said, “So it’s me you’re avoiding. I thought maybe it was Pepper.”

Tony shifted in his seat and picked up a random tool.

 “Or is it both of us?”

“C’mon, Rhodey, you know I love you guys.” Tony burst out of his seat and started pacing the small area beside the engine.

“I know. That seems to be the problem. Look, tell me where you are. I’ll come and get you and we can go see Pepper together, figure this out. What happened…after Stane, when we…” Rhodey trailed off and looked away, then tried again. “It doesn’t have to change anything between us, our friendship, if we don’t want it to.”

“Speaking of Pepper, I need to wave her, let her know to reimburse you from my personal account. Gotta go.”

“Wait, Tony, don’t-“

“Bye, Rhodey.” Tony hit a button and Rhodey’s face disappeared. He stood over the screen, his head bowed. Abruptly, he sat down and brought up the wave messaging program.

“Hey, Pep. It’s me. Still alive. Obviously. I need you to transfer some credits to Rhodey’s account from my private fund. You know the one.” He named a figure well above the amount he’d borrowed. “Thank you, you’re the best, and would you please stop trying to track me by my account withdrawals so I don’t have to hit people up for money? Bye.” He ended the recording and sent the transmission - and JARVIS after it to strip all of the coding that might allow someone to trace it back to its point of origin. He wouldn’t lead any trouble back to _SHIELD_ if he could help it.

He picked up the part he’d been tinkering with earlier. Knowing Fury’s penchant for routine, it was probably almost time to eat, but Tony never let things like hunger get in the way of improving _SHIELD_ ’s technology. He wouldn’t starve - Fury also had a penchant for sending someone to roust him out of the engine room for meals. The food served on board was nutritionally adequate, but it was hardly deserving of the name food. The company was better, but his crewmates never wanted to talk about the subjects that really interested him. What were the odds that any of the new passengers could intelligently discuss anything other than their mundane little lives? Maybe it was time to think about going home after all, if only for some decent food and conversation.

=

Meal times on _Shield_ were always lively, usually entertaining, and occasionally hilarious. This meal was shaping up to be one of the hilarious ones. Maria struggled to remain impassive as Phil eyed the basket of rolls Natasha was holding out to him before shaking his head. Natasha shrugged and offered it to Clint, who took two rolls and placed one on Phil’s plate, a process which had been repeated for every dish served that evening. Natasha was also taking great pains to pass behind Phil at every opportunity. It had taken her several trips to bring everything to the table - Phil had turned to watch her every single time - including a special trip just for salt, which she had placed right in front of Phil. Phil, as fond as he was of salting everything, hadn’t touched it. Clint, who often complained about Phil’s salt intake, did not offer his help.

Their passengers were giving them odd looks, but Maria couldn’t be bothered about people who would be in their lives for a matter of days. Even the doctor, for all that he was looking to stay on with them for a spell, wouldn’t be around long enough to make getting to know him worthwhile. The man didn’t need to be her friend to patch her up. Assuming he could even do that much.

“Dr. Becker, you told Clint you aren’t a medical doctor. Exactly what kind of doctor are you?” Maria asked during a lull in the conversation.

Dr. Becker jerked up from where he was hunched over his plate and looked around. “Ah, I’m actually a physicist,” he mumbled and went back to his food.

“I see,” Maria said. She traded a look with Nick and raised an eyebrow at him. Nick shrugged and looked at Clint, who also shrugged.

“I do have some medical training,” Dr. Becker said suddenly. “I studied internal medicine for a time at St. Lucy’s in Ariel City. On Ariel.” He looked down again when he finished speaking.

“I’ve heard of it,” Nick said mildly and there was an awkward pause.

“I’m sure you will make a fine physician someday,” the tall blond passenger, Odinson, spoke up. He was looking at his food strangely, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. If Nick was right and this guy was from money, it probably wasn’t his usual fare. He wasn’t being a snob about it, though, so Maria did not care.

Dr. Becker nodded and did not look up again.

“Will this be your first visit to Greenleaf, Mr. Odinson?” Natasha took up the reins of the conversation and Maria allowed herself to relax. She hated small talk; she was grateful Natasha didn’t seem to mind it.

“Nay,” Odinson replied with a smile. “My family has many holdings there. I have been there many times to check on them.”

“Strange that your family doesn’t also have their own ships to take you there,” Phil said with one of his bland ‘I’m harmless’ smiles.

“We do indeed have many ships,” Odinson said. “But I am on an adventure.” With that, he took a big bite of his food and began to chew, his cheeks bulging. Subject closed, apparently. Maria supposed slumming it on a small transport ship could be seen as an adventure to someone used to first class everything. That had been part of the appeal for Tony, after all, although Tony had not been as forgiving about the quality of the food.

Natasha moved on to the remaining passenger. “And you, Mr. Barnes?”

“My family doesn’t have any ships.”

Clint laughed and there were chuckles from some the others.

“I used to live on Greenleaf a long time ago,” Barnes said as the laughter died away. “I’m just trying to get home.”

“I expect you’ll find things have changed,” Nick said. Greenleaf, with its abundance of medicinal plants and the pharmaceutical companies that had moved in to exploit them, was now one of the most tightly regulated planets in the verse.

“I expect I will.” Barnes started eating again, quickly but neatly.

Eating was the perfect excuse to avoid talking about something, and all three of their passengers had used the ploy. What were they hiding? Were they in something together or did Maria have to worry about three separate threats to ship and crew? She exchanged a look with Natasha, but her wife gave nothing away - she wouldn’t, not in front of strangers.

Phil was looking a Barnes, his brow furrowed. “Have we met before, Mr. Barnes? You seem very familiar to me.”

Barnes barely looked up. “I don’t think so.”

Phil nodded, but he kept throwing thoughtful glances at Barnes as he ate. An awkward silence descended and this time Natasha didn’t try to salvage it. She’d probably discovered everything she wanted to know; she’d share her thoughts with Maria later in the privacy of their quarters.

Clint had finished his first helping and was going in for seconds. His food had barely touched his plate when Nick spoke up.

“It looks like Tony forgot about eating again. Go and drag him away from whatever he’s working on, would you, Clint?”

Clint froze with his fork halfway to his mouth and stared at Nick. Then he gave a short nod and shoved the bite in his mouth. He pushed his plate a little closer to Phil and left the table. Clint was getting better about his food issues - at least now he trusted that it would still be there when he got back. Maria thought he might still be hoarding protein, but Phil hadn’t brought it up since they’d first discovered he was doing it. A few good years on board _Shield_ couldn’t erase the lifetime of bad ones that had come before.

Natasha got up at the same time as Clint and brought a dessert to the table - custard tarts, which happened to be Phil’s favorite. Natasha was bringing out the big guns. Phil tracked the plate as it went around the table, but refused to take one when it came to him, regret plain in his face. Maria almost took pity on him. Almost. Phil should know better; Natasha would never be so obvious in her revenge.

Clint returned, Tony trailing behind him.

“What’d I miss?” Tony said as he took a seat and began filling his plate.

An alarm blared throughout the ship. Proximity alert.

=

John Garrett. Phil hadn’t heard much from him since the war had ended. He could have done without seeing him now, he thought as Garrett clapped him on the back with unnecessary force. That was Garrett all over - big, loud, and genial in a way that set Phil’s teeth on edge. Not that he ever let his distaste show; they’d fought together and that forged bonds of brotherhood. Although Garrett was more like an annoying cousin.

 “Phil!” Garrett grinned with all of his teeth. “Couldn’t have docked our ships better myself. Reminds me of the time…” Phil tuned out Garrett’s rambling as he escorted him to the dining area. He didn’t remember Garrett being so boastful before; his ego would barely fit inside the cargo bay.

In the time it had taken Phil to answer Garrett’s hail, get Nick’s okay on his request for a face-to-face, and line up their ships for the umbilical connection, the others had finished the meal and cleared everything away. Phil mourned the loss of the custard tarts; he had almost convinced himself Natasha hadn’t done anything to them when Garrett had shown up.

“Nick!” Enthusiastic greeting, toothy grin. “Maria.” Less enthusiasm, same grin.

“John.” Nick nodded at him. “What can I do for you?”

“Thought I’d visit for a spell. I needed to see some faces other than my own, as handsome as it is. I’d a taken a ship full of purple bellies. Pretty damn lucky I ran into someone I know instead.”

Nick and Maria’s unimpressed glares didn’t faze Garrett at all. While Phil had no problem believing Garrett would risk both his ship - the _Qiānlǐyǎn de rén_ \- and _Shield_ on a deep-space docking just because he was tired of his own company, he was also willing to bet there was something else at play. Would Garrett tell Nick what he was really after? Probably not unless they were alone.

Maria had come to the same conclusion, because she excused herself and jerked her head at Phil for him to follow. “I need to see to the passengers,” she said as they entered the aft passageway. Her jaw was set, but she did not address Garrett’s presence. Phil followed suit.

“I’ll relieve Clint at the helm.” All systems needed to be monitored while they were docked with Garrett’s ship and it was still technically Phil’s shift. He looked back at the door leading into the dining area; the most direct route to the cockpit was back that way. Nick wouldn’t thank him if his reappearance caused Garrett to clam up. He’d have to take the long way around.

He followed Maria down toward the infirmary, where they parted ways, Phil turning toward the cargo bay. Grant Barnes was there, checking the display of his refrigeration unit. That nagging sense of recognition flared up again. Even the name was ringing some tiny bell in his memory, but he couldn’t place it.

Natasha exited her shuttle and walked along the catwalk above them. Barnes looked up, and his profile made Phil catch his breath. _Impossible_. He knew exactly where he’d seen that face before - his collection of propaganda stills from the first Unification war. Steve Rogers, the Face of the Alliance, who’d disappeared under mysterious circumstances after unification had failed. There had been rumors that some bigwig from the Allied planets had gotten rid of Rogers after he had switched sides and thrown his support behind the Independent movement. Still others believed that Rogers had dropped from public view entirely of his own free will and had lived out his life as an anonymous citizen on some border planet. Without evidence, both theories were equally valid.

Obviously this man was much too young to be Steve Rogers - Steven _Grant_ Rogers. Pair that middle name with the last name of Rogers’ best friend, James Barnes, factor in the uncanny resemblance, and Phil could argue that he was looking at a descendant of his childhood hero. Maybe Rogers had wanted to build a new life after the war - changed his name or married into his friend’s family… Phil could be on the verge of solving a decades-old mystery. It looked like he’d have to abandon his assassinated-by-the-government stance.

But now wasn’t the time for it. “You’re not supposed to be here unescorted,” Phil said mildly, causing Barnes to whirl around to face him.

“I-“ Barnes began.

Natasha joined them then, descending the metal stairs gracefully. “Clint asked me to bring him in to check his equipment, since he couldn’t do it himself.” Phil resisted the urge to edge away from her as she drew nearer. He was 100% sure her revenge would be come when he least expected it - he was also sure that she enjoyed defying expectations. It wouldn’t be out of character for her to do something out of character, just to catch him off guard. It was possible he was overthinking things.

Natasha wasn’t the type to be upset by such his innocuous chicken comment - this was most likely some sort of distraction for her. He knew she was searching for something - information or a specific person, perhaps; she hadn’t chosen to share any details with him, and Clint and Maria were just as close-mouthed. If she’d discovered something upsetting, a play at petty revenge could be her way of dealing with it. Phil was more than willing to go along with it; she wouldn’t hurt him. But that didn’t mean he was looking forward to whatever she had planned.

“I see,” Phil said. “Speaking of Clint...” He nodded at the two of them and headed up to the cockpit. Clint enjoyed piloting the ship, but he enjoyed watching Phil pilot the ship even more. And Phil...Phil enjoyed his enjoyment. He had never expected being married to be so much fun.

Clint smiled in greeting when Phil entered the small space. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said and held out his hand. A custard tart was resting in the palm of his hand.

=

Reading people was an art, one Natasha excelled at. For instance, most liars were fidgety. The man in front of her, Barnes, was a liar. And he was very fidgety, until he forgot whatever he was lying about and moved with confidence. Being around others made him very conscious of his lie. Natasha had to admit she was curious; he didn’t seem like he’d be a _good_ liar. His face gave away every thought, at least to her. Yet she couldn’t quite figure out the nature of his lie. It would be frustrating if it wasn’t so intriguing. She might have to give up her plan to tease Phil into a torment of anticipation and concentrate on Mr. Golden Boy instead.

“I’m finished,” he told her as he turned away from the refrigeration unit. An odd thing to take to Greenleaf - pharmaceutical plant cuttings didn’t do well in cryo, so he probably wasn’t looking to set up as a pre-drug smuggler. There were any number of things he could be taking onto the planet with his setup, but none of them were actually illegal. So he very likely wasn’t a smuggler, which boded well for Nick. He wouldn’t appreciate the competition being so close at hand.

They were walking to the door that lead back to the passenger quarters when Nick came down the stairs, followed by a stranger who had to be from the ship that had hailed them during dinner. He was smirking.

“This will be easier than I thought,” the man said when they reached the bottom, his smirk turning to a shark’s grin. He drew his gun and pointed it at Barnes. “Might as well give it up, Rogers, you’re coming with me.”

Nick turned and drew his gun, pointing it at the stranger. Barnes - Rogers? - had his hands up, not saying a word, but Natasha didn’t think he was just going to go without a struggle. She herself was suppressing the urge to spring out of the line of fire - any sudden movement would sure to set the guy off.

“What’s going on here, John?” Nick said. His tone was softer than usual, though it held his usual note of command.

“Just collecting my paycheck, _Nick_ ,” John said with a slight sneer. “The Alliance wants him, preferably alive, but they’ll take what they can get. And I’m the one they send to take care of these things.”

“You threw in with the Alliance?” Nick sounded merely curious, as if he didn’t hold the Alliance and anyone who worked for them in contempt.

“I had my fill of being on the losing side. Now I’ve gotten a taste of being a winner and it is sweet. If you were smart, you’d do the same.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Your choice.” John obviously thought Nick was making the wrong one. “I’ll just take Rogers and his stuff and we’ll be on our way.”

“I can’t let you do that.” Nick raised his gun a little; Natasha took a step to one side and John jerked the gun to point it at her.

“Don’t go anywhere, darlin’. I don’t think Nick here realizes how serious I am. Come over here.”

Natasha looked at Nick. His face was impassive, but she knew him too well; he was calculating the best way to end this on his terms. It wasn’t a question of whether this John would get his way, but who might get hurt stopping him. Luckily for Nick, Natasha was the perfect hostage for the situation. She approached John slowly. Behind her, Barnes-Rogers made a small noise of protest.

“That’s a good girl,” John said when she got close enough to grab. He spun her around to face the others and held her against his chest with an arm around her neck. His forearm almost cut of her breath and his fingers dug into her shoulder. She relaxed into him and grabbed his arm, gave it a little tug and then left her hands to rest there lightly. His grip loosened a little. “Drop the gun, Nick.”

Nick lowered his weapon, then knelt and put it on the floor.

“Should I be flattered or offended you bought my ‘good ol’ boy act’ so easilty? Kick it away,” John said as Nick rose to his full height.

Nick complied, sending the gun sliding across the floor with a quick shove of his foot.

“Hey-“

From behind Barnes-Rogers, Tony entered the cargo bay. John whipped his gun around and fired. Tony yelled and fell to the ground. John immediately held the gun to Natasha’s head.

“No heroics now,” he said. He pulled Natasha away from the staircase and put a wall at his back as running footsteps could be heard approaching. Maria and Odinson appeared at the door Tony had entered; Maria immediately knelt beside Tony while Odinson took in the situation and moved to stand in front of them. Dr. Becker stuck his head hesitantly around the doorframe, then pulled back out of sight again. Above them, the catwalk rang under a pair of hurrying feet - Clint and Phil. “Tell your people to stay where they are or we’ll all get acquainted with the color of this little lady’s innards.”

“Hold,” Nick said and everyone froze.

“Is she yours? I remember a time when you would’ve shot me down and damn the collateral damage. Never thought I’d see the great Nicholas Fury tied up in some woman’s skirts.” Nick didn’t respond and John laughed. “Or maybe you’ve just gone soft. How about this? Load up his,” he nodded at Barnes-Rogers, “freezer onto the manual lift and this sweet piece will live a little longer.” 

Maria stood up behind Nick, her face the same indifferent mask as his. Natasha caught her eyes and blinked twice. Maria’s gaze flickered up and back down, then blinked once, slowly. Either Clint or Phil was on the move.

Nick nodded shortly. “Fine.” He began to move toward the manual lift. There was a clang from above their heads. John jerked in reaction, just a little, and the gun was no longer pressed against her temple. Natasha made her move, freeing herself in two blows and leaving John bent over and gasping for breath.

“Bitch,” John wheezed as he straightened. He raised his gun and Natasha threw herself down. Multiple shots rang out. He jerked with the impact of each bullet and took a stumbling step back. “God damn,” he said, looking down at his bloody chest and then crumpling to the floor.

=

Steve lowered his hands and tried to still his racing heart. He’d been preparing to rush the Alliance operative; instead, he was looking at his dead body. A familiar sight during the war, but not one he’d been expecting to see on this little transport ship.

Around him, the crew had sprung into action. The captain - where had he gotten another gun so quickly? - and the first mate were approaching the fallen man slowly, guns ready. Barton was covering them from the catwalk, and the pilot was next to the wounded ship’s mechanic. Steve had no idea how he’d gotten down from the catwalk so quickly, and without alerting the Alliance operative.

“Clear,” Captain Fury said and the tension eased from the room. “Phil, how’s Tony?”

“The bullet hit his shoulder. Dr. Becker, if you could take a look?”

Dr. Becker entered the room slowly, taking everything in before kneeling next to Tony. “Bear with me, this isn’t my area of expertise.” He examined the wound, drawing a hiss from his patient. Steve had thought he was unconscious. “We should get him to the infirmary. I’ll have a better idea of what to do if I have the right equipment.”

“Let me bear him there,” Mr. Odinson offered. “To redeem my shameful lack of action in this fight.”

“No shame in staying out of a fight you aren’t prepared for,” Captain Fury said, “but we would appreciate your help with our mechanic. Phil, if you’d stay with him?”

Mr. Odinson bent and lifted Tony easily. The pilot - Phil - led the trio out of the cargo bay.

Captain Fury turned to Steve. “It seems we have a few things to talk about, Mr…Rogers, is it?”

Steve nodded. “I’m traveling under a false name,” he admitted.

“With an ident card to match. Those are hard to come by.”

“They are.” Steve met Captain Fury’s glare head-on; he was sorry he’d brought trouble to the captain’s door, but he had more important things to worry about.

“Garrett seemed mighty interested in this.” Fury circled the cryo unit.

Steve shifted his weight. “I don’t know why,” he said, eyes averted. He could feel a blush stealing over his face.

“Clint,” Fury said. Barton raised his weapon and aimed it at Steve. “Let’s find out what’s in here, shall we?”

“Don’t. Please.”

Fury ignored him. He punched the big red button on the top (user-friendly, certainly, but what he wouldn’t give for something complicated and code-locked). The unit cycled open and white fog rolled out to dissipate in the warmer air of the cargo bay.

“You’ll want to explain this,” Fury said as he stared down into the unit. He raised his gun and aimed it at Steve without looking. “And you better hope I like what I hear.”

Steve didn’t know where to start, but before he could even try, a naked figure burst out of the cryo unit with a scream and slammed into Fury, knocking him back.

“Bucky!” Steve moved without a thought. Bucky whirled around and then fell to his knees. Steve dropped in front of him and waited. Would Bucky recognize him this time?

Bucky scrambled back until he ran into a small shipping container. He huddled against it, his arms around his knees. His metal arm was wrapped in cloth, but Steve could feel the cold radiating from it as he got closer.

“Buck?”

“S-Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Bucky. You’re gonna be okay.” No matter what he had to do, he’d make sure Bucky was okay, even if he had to take Fury’s ship to do it.

“B-big. H-how did y-you get sso big?” Bucky shivered; his teeth chattered. “M-Ma’s cookin’ fffinally kick in?”

“Something like that,” Steve said, relieved. Last time, Bucky hadn’t recognized him. At least the bruises on his throat had faded quickly, thanks to his body’s ability to quickly heal minor injuries.

“Here.” A folded blanket landed near them; Steve shook it out and wrapped it around Bucky’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” he said without taking his eyes off of Bucky. Whatever the Alliance had done to him had taught Bucky to take advantage of the slightest lapse in attention; whether he would lash out or run and hide depended on factors Steve had no way of knowing.

“Let’s move this to the infirmary,” Fury said. “It’s time we had a talk.”

=

It took some time for Barnes-now-Rogers to get his friend up and moving. Luckily the trip to the infirmary was short; Dr. Becker was still working on Tony’s bullet wound when they got there. The infirmary wasn’t large enough to hold them all. Nick quickly outlined the situation and turned to Maria.

“I’ll see to Garrett,” Maria said.

“I’ll come with you,” Natasha volunteered immediately. Natasha didn’t seem to be affected by her short time as a hostage, but then she rarely let anything personal show. If she wanted to stick close to Maria - well, Maria probably needed her close, too. It was never easy to see a loved one in danger, no matter what skills or abilities they had.

“I will go as well,” Odinson said. “I am of little use to the wounded.” Maria looked him over and accepted his help with polite thanks.

If anyone was going to raise a fuss about a dead Alliance operative, it would most likely be Odinson. Rogers and company were wanted men, and according to Nick’s conversation with Clint before dinner, Dr. Becker was looking to stay off the official radar, too. Nick pulled Maria aside. “Sound him out about the Alliance. We don’t want him turning us in because he had a fit of doing the right thing.” If Odinson was likely to contact the Alliance…they’d just cross that bridge when they came to it.

“I’ll get back up to the cockpit,” Phil said as Maria led her group out of the infirmary.

“Stick around. Clint, I need you at the helm.” Nick hadn’t been Phil’s best friend for decades without picking up tidbits of knowledge about Phil’s favorite hobby; he knew the significance of the names ‘Steve Rogers’ and ‘Bucky’.

Clint looked like he might object. He and Phil might need to be together right now as much as Maria and Natasha had, but this time duty took precedence. Phil squeezed Clint’s wrist, and Clint nodded and left.

“How is he, Doctor?” Nick asked as he stood next to Tony, who was sitting on the medical bed in the middle of the room.

“Um. The bullet went all the way through, so I didn’t need to extract it. I was able to stop his internal bleeding and seal the wound. Ah, he should recover fully, as long as he rests his arm. Followed by physical therapy. Your infirmary is very well equipped; it made my job very easy.”

“Tony?” Nick snapped his fingers in front of Tony’s face; his eyes had drifted shut. “Why don’t you lie down and get some rest?”

“He didn’t want to lie down while I was treating him,” Dr. Becker murmured.

Tony shook his head vigorously. “I’m good,” he said fervently. “Got the good drugs - good investment there, Nick - ready to get back to work. Let’s do this.” He tried to clap his hands, but only one would cooperate.

“You’re not in any kind of shape-“ Nick began. Even the doctor opened his mouth to say something.

“We gotta crack his system, see if he contacted anyone and told them about us. I can erase any evidence of our meeting, but it’s harder if he told his BFF already.” Tony eased himself down off the table; Nick caught him as he started to topple forward. “Thanks. Appreciate it. Now I just have to get back to my quarters. No problem.”

“Doctor, if you wouldn’t mind? I have a situation to deal with here, and Tony shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Um, sure. But what about…” He waved his hand vaguely at Rogers and Bucky, the latter huddled in a blanket, head bowed, his long hair obscuring his face. Phil was watching them with interest.

“Whatever’s going on there will keep.”

“Okay. Okay, let’s go. I’m going to need directions. Are you up for that, Tony?” Dr. Becker put an arm around Tony’s waist and looped his good arm over his shoulders.

“No problem. I am smarter than everyone on this ship combined, even with the drugs. Hey, how’s your typing?”

Tony and Dr. Becker made their way slowly out of the infirmary. Nick spared a sympathetic thought for the doctor helping Tony to navigate the stairs. If he could spare a crew member to help, he would, but fugitives from the Alliance took precedence.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on - why your buddy there was an icicle and why the Alliance gives a damn about either of you? Start with your real name.”

Rogers stood at attention and looked him in the eye. Military background for sure, which fit with Nick’s suspicions about the man’s true identity. “My name is Steve Rogers and this is my friend, Bucky Barnes.”

Phil wasn’t as astounded as Nick had thought he would be. “You’re the real Steve Rogers? I thought you might be a descendent, but you’re him? The Face of the Alliance?”

Rogers winced. “I gave that up when I discovered what unification really meant for the outer planets. There were people who weren’t too happy about that.”

“And they didn’t just kill you?” Rogers looked startled, but Nick wasn’t one for sugar-coating. “For that matter, if you really are who you say you are, you look good for your age.”

“There was an attempt. One of the doctors who- There was a doctor. Erskine. I almost died, but he managed to save me. He put me in cryo to... I don’t actually know why it was necessary, but it was only supposed to be for a short time. I woke up a few months ago in an Alliance facility. I think there was some kind of malfunction with my stasis unit.”

“ Cryostasis doesn’t work long-term. Anything longer than a few weeks is fatal.” There was a persistent belief on many Rim planets, a legend really, that Steve Rogers would rise again when he was needed, like King Arthur of Earth-That-Was. Phil had studied all of the more plausible theories of his possible return, which included cryo tech. When he’d had enough to drink, Phil would expound at length the many reasons why it was a modern fairy tale and technologically impossible. The two men in front of them seemed to prove otherwise. Either it was an elaborate con, or he and Phil had to change their thinking on a few things.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I was able to escape. I don’t know if they forgot about me or if they never even knew I was there; I woke up in a dusty storage closet. During my escape, I saw Bucky. They had him…they- I knew I had to get him out, but I couldn’t take him with me. So I left him.”

Rogers looked guilty; he seemed like the type to beat himself up over things he couldn’t control.

“Smart move,” Nick said.

Rogers shrugged. “I got out, and discovered just how much time had passed. Made a few friends, and figured out how to rescue Bucky with their help. And now we’re here.”

“Long story short,” Phil said mildly.

“I’m trusting you with this much because I have to.” Meaning he didn’t trust them with his friends’ identities. Fair enough; Nick understood his hesitance. But if that knowledge - or lack of it - put his crew in danger, they would be revisiting the topic.

“Are you sure you should trust your friends? An Alliance operative tracked you to my ship, despite your faked credentials. They sent you off to Greenleaf-“

“That was my idea,” Rogers said quickly.

“A planet with a heavy Alliance presence, and they didn’t warn you off?”

“That’s exactly why they wouldn’t be looking for me there.”

Nick was not forming the highest opinion of Rogers’ strategic planning skills. “One mistake and they don’t need to look for you, because you’ve walked right into their hands.”

Rogers clenched his jaw. “It was worth the risk. Now, though...” He shook his head.

On most planets, people could come and go as they pleased - and some as they didn’t please; slave traders were known to raid isolated settlements on less developed worlds. But they wouldn’t be landing on Greenleaf without a thorough inspection of crew, cargo, and passengers. Rogers’ fake ident card might hold up, but Bucky didn’t even have that much.

“Why Greenleaf in the first place? Unless you were deliberately looking for the dumbest place to go while on the run.”

Rogers frowned. “We used to live there, Bucky and me. Like I said.”

Nick waited.

“And we’re meeting someone there. One of my new friends. We had to split up after I got Bucky out.”

 “I don’t know how you pulled off your daring rescue, because this plan sounds stupider and stupider the more I hear about it.” Phil shifted; he wouldn’t be taking kindly to Nick criticizing his hero. According to him, Steve Rogers had been a tactical genius. Nick just wasn’t seeing it.

“We obviously didn’t have all the information we needed.”

Throughout their conversation, Bucky had been huddled in his blanket. Now, the tension in Rogers’ voice brought him out of his daze.

“Steve?” he croaked. His eyes were watchful and he had straightened up. He’d somehow gone from pitiful to menacing in two seconds.

“It’s okay, Buck. Just realizing we need a new plan.”

Bucky relaxed somewhat, but he remained alert. Whatever the Alliance had done to him - nothing good, judging by Rogers’ inability to talk about it - had made him dangerous, a weapon. Nick had to wonder whose hand was on the trigger.

“I know you don’t have any reason to trust us, but I’m of a mind to get in the Alliance’s way whenever possible. My crew and I will help you.” Nick had to wonder what he was getting himself into.

=

Greenleaf was well-named; it looked very green from orbit. _Shield_ circled the landing field, waiting for the okay to dock. Nick sighed - quietly so no one would hear him. This was his least favorite part.

“ _Shuttle One, preparing to disembark_ ,” Natasha’s voice crackled through the speakers. She had business on one of Greenleaf’s moons, which wasn’t as regulated as the planet itself.

“Acknowledged, Shuttle One. Safe travels,” Phil responded.

“ _See you in a few days_.”

They circled for another hour; landing on Greenleaf was an exercise in boredom, followed by a lot of hurry-up-and-wait bureaucracy that managed to be more stressful than it had any right to be. Once they were on the ground, they had to wait for the inspectors to come aboard and clear everything. The wait could be anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours; there were rumors that one ship had had to wait three days to get cleared, but no one could confirm that one.

Their wait was an average two hours. Nick and Maria met them in the cargo bay. He didn’t recognize the officials, but that wasn’t unusual; Customs Inspection was a big business on Greenleaf, so big it had been outsourced to private companies.

“One of your shuttles is gone. Where is it?” the senior official, a thin older man, began without preamble.

“It’s rented by Registered Companion Natasha Romanoff. She had an appointment on Bryson’s Rock,” Maria said. The other official, a young man who barely looked old enough to shave, raised an eyebrow at the news.

“I see,” the senior replied. He looked at his datapad. “Do you certify that this manifest is accurate?”

Nick took the datapad and looked over the manifest carefully. Crooked inspectors liked to catch out inexperienced captains by doctoring their submitted documents and using the discrepancies to confiscate cargo, personal belongings, and even the ships themselves. That wasn’t the case here; they’d caught one of the honest ones, at least. “It is,” Nick said and registered his thumbprint.

“We will now begin the visual inspection of your cargo.” That part didn’t take very long; _Shield_ was a small transport ship. The official passed over Jasper’s special shipment without a blink and Nick did not show his relief in any manner. Transferring interdicted cargo on Greenleaf was stupid, as stupid as Rogers’ plan had been, and he wasn’t going to do it again, no matter how much Jasper paid him.

“What is this? It isn’t on your manifest.” The official’s tone sharpened when he came to Rogers’ cryo unit.

“That belongs to one of our passengers. It’s listed under passenger property,” Nick said evenly.

“This person,” he consulted the manifest, “Grant Barnes, must be present while I inspect the unit.” It was a statement and a command; Nick was slightly impressed. He’d have to try that tone sometime. Nick turned to Maria, who nodded and went in search of Rogers.

“Mr. Barnes,” the official said as soon as Maria returned with him. “I will be inspecting your refrigeration unit and your presence is required.”

“Oh,” Rogers said intelligently. “Sure. Go ahead?”

Unnecessary permission obtained, the official opened the unit. White fog rolled out and curled around his feet.

“What is the meaning of this?” The official intoned, outrage plain throughout his whole body.

Rogers stepped forward. “It’s just some rabbits I’m hoping to sell. They’re a bit of a delicacy around these parts, I’m told. They travel better skinned. I also have the pelts, if you’d like to see them?” Stacked in the cryo unit were more than a dozen rabbit carcasses, a thick layer of frost covering them.

“That will not be necessary,” the official said stiffly. He closed the lid carefully and turned to Nick. “It’s time for the ship-wide inspection. We will conduct the passenger and crew authentication here, then commence with the visual confirmation of each chamber of the ship.”

Visual confirmation was another phrase for tossing the whole place. Nick had some hope it wouldn’t be too bad, not with Customs Official Stickler-for-the-rules.

“Bring everyone in, please, Hill.” Maria summoned the rest of the crew and the passengers, and everyone lined up in the cargo bay with their ident cards ready.

The authentication proceeded quickly. Odinson’s name made them pause, but otherwise they treated him with the same indifferent courtesy as the rest. Rogers didn’t even rate a blink from them. Tony’s wound raised a few questions, but they accepted his story of an accident in the engine room.

A couple of minor officials were called in to help with the visual inspection. Nick didn’t know their actual job title, but ‘thug’ seemed appropriate. They were large and muscular - they gave Odinson a run for his money. Under the direction of Mr. Stickler, the first thing they did was open the ‘smuggler’ space that everyone in the verse knew existed on Firefly-class ships. It was empty.

The younger official stayed in the cargo bay with them while Mr. Stickler led his thugs through the ship. They were gone a long time; probably doing a very thorough job. Nick hoped he wouldn’t be picking all of his clothes up off the floor this time. Tony was muttering under his breath about broken parts; they’d had to apply for reimbursement for an engine part broken off by an enthusiastic inspector who was determined that some sort of contraband was hidden inside. They’d actually gotten it, too.

Finally, Mr. Stickler returned. “Everything seems to be in order. Welcome to Greenleaf. Enjoy your stay.” He handed Nick a stamped printout and led his minions off of the ship.

“Well, that’s that. You can officially disembark,” Nick told Odinson and Rogers.

“My thanks, Captain Fury,” Odinson said. “If I ever have occasion, I would enjoy booking passage on your ship again. May we meet again soon.” He picked up his lone bag and left with a jaunty wave.

“I’ll arrange for the cryo unit to be picked up as soon as possible,” Rogers said. “And thank you for your help with…Thank you.” Rogers hefted his bag onto this shoulder and looked around.

Phil held out his hand. “It was an honor to meet you,” he said. Rogers shook it. “This is the information you’ll need to find your friend.” He pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. It contained the coordinates of a small cabin located on Bryson’s Rock. It was owned by a former colleague, Jimmy Woo, and empty this time of year. They had standing permission to use it whenever they liked.

Rogers slipped it into his pocket without looking at it. “Thank you.” He nodded at the rest of the crew, then turned on his heel and left.

“All right, that’s taken care of. Maria, let our customers know their cargo has arrived. Phil and I will see if we can drum up any new business. We will not be taking on any passengers.” Their rendezvous with Jasper’s client was set for tomorrow; they didn’t need any witnesses. It was bad enough he was trusting his new temporary medic to keep his mouth shut.

“You sure about that, boss?” Clint said, pointing at something behind Nick.

Nick turned around. Rogers was standing on the ramp, a desperate look on his face. He should have known; that ending had come way too easy.

“My contact’s gone missing. I think the Alliance is on to him.”

“And?” It was cold, yes, but he had to think of his crew. There was no way this was ending pretty.

“He left a message. Said if he wasn’t here to meet me like he should, I should contact you.” Rogers shrugged.

“Just who is this contact of yours?” Who did Steve know that would send him to Nick?

“Sam. Sam Wilson.”

Nick’s contact with the underground Independent movement. _Go se._

**Author's Note:**

> There's more that was supposed to happen, but setting it up took longer than I expected. So I guess I'll be continuing this :)  
> I feel like my brain is flooded with this fic and I may not have tagged everything that should be tagged. Please let me know if I should add any.


End file.
